Spellbound Chapter 8.

Chapter Eight.

 

Going South.

 

The sleigh and dogs were returned to the Last Inn. Next morning, Grace’s wagon was brought round.

“Where next?” she asked.

“The land of the Fire Demon,” said Calizone. “But we’ll take the coast road. It saves us going through places we’ve already searched.”

She turned to Beldan. “You disappeared again last night, as you have at almost every stop. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Beldan grinned. “I don’t think much escapes you. My father ordered me to visit as many Kingsmen as I could. He thought it useful for me to meet them.”

“The Kingsmen?” asked Grace.

“They run the bigger towns,” said Beldan. “Collect taxes, keep order, and so on. Their secretaries do most of the work. Once a year, Father sends people to check they’re doing their jobs properly. He wanted me to meet them.”

He sighed. “They all seem to have unmarried daughters, nieces, and hopeful young ladies desperate to meet the heir to the throne. I’ve turned down two dozen invitations to balls and parties.”

“I hope you were polite,” said Mardan. “Father wouldn’t want you upsetting the people he relies on.”

“It wasn’t easy,” said Beldan. “Some were very insistent. And I know messengers will have rushed off to tell Father I visited.”

Mardan turned to Calizone. “One of my favourite books at the Palace had a map showing all the roads and how long each journey should take. We seem to travel much faster than we ought. Is someone… adjusting things?”

Calizone sniffed. “Some people are too clever for their own good. Yes, I’ve helped us along with a little magic. I’m not getting younger, and gallivanting across the country isn’t fun. The sooner we find a new witch, the better.”

Mardan smiled. “I thought so.”

“I hope we reach the next town soon,” said Beldan. “I need fresh clothes. I’ll ask the Kingsman to get Father to send some.”

Grace laughed. “If Calizone keeps speeding us up, your clothes might end up chasing you through the kingdom.”

“Can’t you just magic us to the Fire Demon’s home?” asked Mardan.

Calizone shook her head. “No. I’m searching for someone using witchcraft. Spells make ripples, like stones dropped in water. I can sense those ripples. Big spells make big ripples — they drown out the small ones. If I whisked us south, I’d lose the ability to sense new magic.”

Calizone leaned heavily on the wagon, her breath misting in the cold air.

She paused. “And speaking of magic — we’ve just passed through an old spell.”

Before anyone could ask, hoofbeats sounded behind them. A small carriage, pulled by a single horse, tore past. The driver — a young woman — was screaming.

Beldan gave chase. His horse was fast, and he caught up, grabbed the reins, and slowed the runaway.

“Thank you,” gasped the girl. “Something spooked him. I dropped the reins.”

The others arrived. She said her name was Naeve.

Calizone frowned. “Grace — read her. Something is very odd.”

Grace helped Naeve down. “Sit with us while you recover.”

Her gown belonged to another era, yet not a thread was worn. The spell had preserved her exactly as she was the moment it struck.

When Naeve was settled, Grace returned to Calizone.

“You’re right,” she whispered. “She’s about eighteen — but she’s been alive for at least a hundred years. And she’s terrified.”

Mardan frowned. “What does it feel like, reading someone who’s been trapped for a century?”

Grace shivered. “Like touching a frightened memory,” she said softly. “She’s been scared for a very long time.”

Beldan joined them. “She’s panic‑stricken at the sight of Calizone. All she can say is ‘the witch.’”

“I think she’s just been released from a spell,” said Calizone. “We passed through one moments before she appeared.”

“Did we break it?” asked Grace.

“No. Spells have lifespans. If it was a hundred‑year spell, it simply ended.”

“Why would anyone do that?” asked Beldan.

Calizone shrugged. “Before me, most Dark Forest witches were unpleasant. If I were home, I could check the diaries. It doesn’t matter who or why — we just need to sort her out.”

She added, “If she can’t be calmed, I could always put another hundred‑year spell on her.”

Beldan gasped. “You wouldn’t! That would be cruel. And she’s so beautiful…”

Calizone sniffed. “I didn’t say I would. I said I could. She’s holding me up.”

She pointed at Naeve and muttered. Naeve shuddered, then began breathing slowly.

“Talk to her now,” said Calizone. “The calming spell won’t last.”

Beldan sat beside Naeve. “There’s nothing to fear. Whatever a witch did to you long ago, Calizone is the Witch now — and she’s good and kind.”

Calizone rolled her eyes but said nothing.

Naeve took a shaky breath. “I was driving along the road. An old woman stepped in front of me. I couldn’t stop. My horse hit her — but she didn’t fall. She hovered. I shouted ‘Sorry,’ and then she pointed at me. The next thing I knew, my horse was bolting behind you.”

“That witch is long dead,” said Beldan. “She put a hundred‑year spell on you.”

“My family,” whispered Naeve. “They’ll be worried.”

Beldan spoke gently. “I’m sorry. Your family died long ago. They would have searched for you, but magic hid you.”

“What do I do now?” she asked through tears.

“You come with us to the next inn,” said Beldan. “We’ll see if you have any relatives still living.”

He turned to Calizone. “If that’s all right?”

“I suppose so,” she said. “It’s late enough to stop.”

Beldan helped Naeve onto Grace’s wagon. He climbed onto her carriage. Mardan fastened Beldan’s horse to the back of the wagon, and they set off. Grace touched Naeve’s hand lightly, careful not to frighten her. “You’re safe now,” she said.